“This is just my cover photo. That means that whatever you see in it, the description that follows isn’t about the royal celebration in honour of the 70th birthday of HRH Alexander II Karadjordjevic. The majority of people in Serbia however are still in disbelief that this energetic, strong, truthful man who often smiles from the heart turned 70 on July 17, 2015. Woe be to every country, including Serbia, that has those at the helm that don’t know how to smile widely. But this photo is responsible for motivating me to a decision and for motivating me to write about public and private. Even if there weren’t present all those crowned and uncrowned heads (Prince Albert II of Monaco, the rulers of Sweden King Carl XVI Gustaf and Queen Silvia, Spanish Queen Sofia, Their Royal Highnesses the Bulgarian King and Queen, princes and princesses…), the Patriarch, President, Ministers, former Presidents, advisers, diplomats – in short, if no one was present or if only one member of the royal family was present (both things have happened to this honourable dynasty at births and birthdays and this is mentioned in the film in which the people in the photo are looking at), even secret services would label this event as a public one. And that is the glory and burden of descent. The flashing but merciless light of the reflectors which ceaselessly illuminate but also bother, blind and follow their closest from birth.” – Predrag Markovic, writer, journalist, literary critic and publisher, contributor and honourable member of the Urban Book Circle.

That means that whatever you see in it, the description that follows isn’t about the royal celebration in honour of the 70th birthday of HRH Alexander II Karadjordjevic. The majority of people in Serbia however are still in disbelief that this energetic, strong, truthful man who often smiles from the heart turned 70 on July 17, 2015. Woe be to every country, including Serbia, that has those at the helm that don’t know how to smile widely.

But this photo is responsible for motivating me to a decision and for motivating me to write about public and private. Even if there weren’t present all those crowned and uncrowned heads (Prince Albert II of Monaco, the rulers of Sweden King Carl XVI Gustaf and Queen Silvia, Spanish Queen Sofia, Their Royal Highnesses the Bulgarian King and Queen, princes and princesses…), the Patriarch, President, Ministers, former Presidents, advisers, diplomats – in short, if no one was present or if only one member of the royal family was present (both things have happened to this honourable dynasty at births and birthdays and this is mentioned in the film in which the people in the photo are looking at), even secret services would label this event as a public one. And that is the glory and burden of descent. The flashing but merciless light of the reflectors which ceaselessly illuminate but also bother, blind and follow their closest from birth.

There also exists a mercilessly stretchable border between public and private with people of ordinary descent which brings their surprised happiness or unhappiness under the reflector (the comedic case) or it simply brings to light the current position in which they’re doing their job. All this is done under the guise of the “public interest” syntagma. These words I write are simply a public explanation of a private decision and this is why there isn’t any space for an analysis or definition of terms.

In orderly, let alone in disorderly countries, public interest is all too often the interest of the arena public. Curious, current and often bloodthirsty. It’s irrelevant if the arena is filled with gladiators, animals or children. This is why at the end of July 2003 (after a private vacation in Greece where, luckily, there still were no camera phones), I made a rule which everyone quickly heard of and became at peace with: in public, I never appear with anyone from my private life. This rule has helped so that no one close to me has ever been dragged through the sand of the arena nor have they heard the surrounding roar of a media lynch. It also helped the media, whichever suggestions or demands they received. They knew that they could, whatever they invent about me (I never sue the press or issue denials), count on my understanding due to the fact that they respect the rule and never even attempted to wait and photograph someone exiting my private apartment or try to find someone in school. Of course, this rule, as with every rule that you dutifully abide by, has its ugly and sometimes unbearable consequences: that you can never sit in a restaurant with someone close to you, you don’t go to the theatre, you stop going on vacation… But everything, they say, has its price. And I don’t complain about that publicly nor privately.

Here, I simply speak about the photograph and the decision that resulted in it. Henceforth, the photograph isn’t originally my private photo. It was “shared” on the internet as one of the photos of a public event (the author is probably Mr. Zika Slika). My attention to this photo was brought by a wonderful person (whom I trust on Facebook) via message that I could and should “post” it as a cover photo. But, even for such a simple decision, I need a reason.

And I found it as soon as I started paying closer attention. Not in whom I see but in whom I don’t see in the “photo.” Feel free to look as well. On my right side there is no one on the podium (but there is a spot), my right hand is in my pocket but no one is holding me by the hand or leaning against any part of my clothing (but I know that one person, privately, literally chose every article of clothing for hours before I left to attend this public gala). But she is not at this celebration for which she had an invitation (as Palace protocol, although it knows about personal rules, always insists).

“This is just my cover photo.” – Predrag Markovic, writer, journalist, literary critic and publisher,
contributor and honourable member of the Urban Book Circle.

Yes, to me this photograph attests to the fact that someone had to miss out on maybe the most beautiful public (and surely unrepeatable in Serbia) royal spectacle because of my private, personal rule. But there hasn’t been any need for that rule for a long time. There is no one in my private life that entered there not knowing that there exists or has existed a public side; although long ago I rid myself (and, thank God, I don’t have any intention of ever being there again) of every function that would be interesting to the media arena, not even as a curiosity let alone a so-called public interest.

Yes, that is the only personal reason why this photograph is there. To show the reason that the decision about public things no longer stands (that its “expiry date” expired with good reason).

Yes, unlike the people from the photograph that are from royal European dynasties, there exists a “luxury” that only we “ordinary people” can set aside for ourselves in this way: to set in place and to disregard personal rules for the visible in the public world. And that we recognize the notion or need for those who in the photograph (maybe they are or will be princess or prince) cannot be seen.

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